Duty of the Chieftain - a Highland 'Lord's Right of the First Night' novella (Clan MacKrannan's Secret Traditions #3) (15 page)

The Chief and the chieftain walked the shoreline, discussing
details that had never been recorded on any instruction parchment and never would be.

And they talked much about Elinor, and what must be
done to make her fit-for-purpose, and the confidence they had that Agatha would have given her some plain-talking advice by the time they arrived at the luncheon table.

"Son, it is
difficult for any woman to find the balance.  Even yer mother and myself had a tricky start and I ended up having to condition her into seeing things my way.  A Chief canna have a wife in control of anything more than his heart.  The clan would see it, and so would all of Scotland eventually.  It would make the MacKrannans vulnerable to attack if folks thought any man of the bloodline was no' strong enough to keep his wife in check."

"I feel sorry for Elinor, for all she has lost with her stupidity
, and for all she's hurting herself now and no' even realising how far she's pushing the boundaries.  I would no' want to take her dignity away as well."

Here was a surprise, thought the Chief.  He'd never known
his son to be soft on any who crossed him. 

"
Gallantry is fine, but ye canna let yerself be ridden roughshod.  Ye'll never be happy unless your wife is as well, and a wife who is in control of her husband is never happy anyway.  Think on that, Ranald, and ye'll find yer answer."

Ranald sat
and stared at the sea for a long while after his father left, thinking on what lessons would serve Elinor the best to tame her tongue.  Problem was, there were many more folks than himself needing an apology.  Some wee
'sorry'
in his own ear would never be enough.

His m
ind kept coming back to just one method – a Tradition he'd read of in the Red Book of MacKrannan Education Traditions on the day afore his wedding, when he was checking up on things he'd need to teach a chieftain's bride coming into the clan, and read it cover to cover afore starting on the next.

H
e'd make preparation now, while the sun was not yet overhead, for it required a consultation with the Bard, a visit to the Vault to check the full rules in the Red Book, and some fast work by one of the village tradesmen.  Archie the Swordmaker would be the most apt, considering what Elinor had deprived his bride Meredith of.

Later that day, the
bell rang for Ranald's steward Dougall to be wed to Lady Agatha's maid Ginny.  After the feasting, the Wisewomen prepared Ginny for the Tradition of the Bride's Right, still in test phase.  The chamber next door had been commandeered as a Husband's Waiting Room and decked out for the purpose.  All was set for the deflowering of a real virgin bride by the chieftain.

It was with a
renewed sense of purpose that Ranald picked up his chieftain's bonnet and strode the corridors at the appointed time to knock on the door of the bower.

Ginny was near jumping out the fireside chair in her excitement.  Ranald himself
and her the bride!  All manner of lights and angels sparkled behind her eyes.  Years of imaginings she'd spent awaiting her turn, listening to the brides talk of his body and of the things he did to them.  And now the Wisewomen had taken it over, she wouldn't get to hear any more while she dressed the brides afterwards.  This was her last chance, and this time it was to be herself, and it was Ranald! 
Ranald!

She loved Dougall
to bits, else she would no' have wed him.  She had also seen the life of a Chief's wife every day, and oft times considered herself the better off for being a ladymaid instead of a Lady.  Just this once with Ranald was all she wanted.

The Wisewomen watching she didna mind.  The Lady Elinor in the fourth witness chair she could have done without, but
nobody ever got everything, did they, and oooh… there was the door getting chapped now… it must be him!

Ranald strode in wearing his full regalia, complete with chieftain's bonnet and
its two eagle feathers, per instructions.  He took the bonnet off immediately and held it to his ribs so that the eagle feathers displayed tall and proud beside his head, per instructions,.

"Good eve to ye, milord."

He knew Ginny would be excited, and sure enough she looked as if she'd faint any minute.  She forgot that she had no need to curtsy in this bower, so he made full courtly bow back to her.

"Good eve to ye, Ginny."

She swallowed.  And swallowed again.  And then she forgot what should come next and hoped it was the hospitality bit.

"Will ye take wine
with me, milord?"

He rescued the goblets that her
wide-armed gesture had knocked over.

"…
How about some blaeberries?"

"Just the wine, if ye please.
  Here, let me do that for ye.  Keep yer silken gownie looking nice to take home, eh?  I must tell ye what a picture ye looked in yer wedding frock.  I canna think when I have seen lovelier.  Did ye make it yerself?"

"Oh no, milord, it's far too good for homemade.  It was Lady Agatha had the dressmaker do it as part
of my gift.  Ye really liked it, milord?"

"I really did.  Ye looked bonnie enough to eat.  Will we sit down awhile now?"

"Oh… aye, we should…
is that right, Hessa?"

Hessa and the Wisewomen were under strict orders from Ranald to ke
ep their mouths shut throughout unless absolutely necessary.  And that went for Elinor as well.  The last thing he needed was a running sodding commentary and the criticism that came with it.

"Never mind
the witnesses, Ginny lass.  We'll do what ye think is best.  And ye may call me Ranald this special night."

Ginny
sat with a thud on her chair while he remained standing.  "Oh I could no', milord…"

"
Of course ye could.  It's still yer wedding day.  A bride gets special treatment."

And he beamed at her as she whispered,
"Ranald".

He held up his full goblet to her.  "Long life and good fortune to ye both, Ginny," he said, and
downed the contents.  The bride, meanwhile, bounced on her chair as if an active beehive were upholstered into its cushions.

She always settled wi
th a cuddling-in, Dougall had reminded him no' an hour past.

"Will ye
have a seat… Ranald?"

He cocked his head cheekily and held out his hand.  "I will
... if ye sit on my knee."

That pleased her greatly. 
She cuddled in just grand.  He could have been anyone, really.  Ginny was just the sort of lass who needed held close and petted, and then she could manage anything at all and do it better than many.

Ranald's chair having its back
to the witnesses made it easier to settle her down.  The pair of them sat contemplating her changed world in the fire's flames, and Ranald said how glad he was that she'd no' decided to wed some man far distant from MacKrannan lands and how he and his family would have missed her had she done that.

"Away
with ye!" said Ginny, feeling the effects of good wine and emboldened with everything thus far.  "What would ye have missed?"

He
laid her head into his chest again.  Ach, her chirpy grins that cheered everybody up first thing in the morning, he said.  The way she managed the rest of the maids and kept them diligent.  It was never easy being strict with folks ye'd still to work with, and he knew that well.  She always got the balance right.

Oh aye, she'd have been difficult to replace in her job,
he told her, but it was more than that.  A woman like her was such an asset to the clan and its Chief and chieftain. Who had he chosen to take on that boat trip to the Prison Island?  It never entered his mind to take anyone but her, for he knew how dependable she was.

Always
she delivered his messages word for word, nothing missed out and no embellishments.  Always she did his bidding with neither sulks nor tears.  Always he could trust her, and the keenness of her ears and eyes meant that nothing got past her that he should know about.  She'd have made a fine warrior and spy had she been a man, but he was glad of her womanhood, for it meant she stayed here and helped keep his home and family safe.

And he'd never seen her look so bonnie as she did this day.

They'd been around each other in the castle since she was a chit of a lass scrubbing floors and himself a gawky lad learning to fight with a wooden-bladed sword, did she remember?  Of course she did.  And here he was now, full-grown to chieftain.  And here she was now, a full-grown woman in all her wedding day glory, ready to start having bairns of her own.  They'd all moved a generation up.

H
e could no' be happier that she'd become wife to his steward and would be staying on at MacKrannan Castle.  And what a true privilege it was for him to be invited to perform the Tradition of the Bride's Right of the First Night.  He took it as an honor that she had asked him.

There came then a long time of quiet after Ranald rearranged her again on his lap, and his head bent forward.  He was obviously kissing her. 
The three Wisewomen were wishing the basket of kerchiefs was closer, for it was so romantic that they'd to dab at their eyes with their sleeves.

Elinor
never cried in public, being a Lady, but she certainly felt like doing so now.  It looked so natural the way Ranald stood up and carried Ginny over to the bed, kissing her all the way.

"Dinna be frightened, Ginny
lass.  I'll do my best no' to hurt ye.  And remember, ye can cry off any time and we'll stop for a while or do something different.  This is all for yer pleasure, and to teach ye the way of it."

Beatrix ran through her mental list of items:  oil in bowl attached to bedpost, spare in bottle at fireside, water
in the basins for the washing afterward, stack of cloths, the bride's own wedding gown and stockings and slippers, and the basket of kerchiefs.

Ishbel took up her quill again at Hessa's nudge.

Elinor sat in misery.

Ginny was in such raptures at
being kissed by her beloved Ranald that she'd now totally forgotten her entire script and running order for the evening's activities.

It was
the chieftain himself who asked... would she like to formally invite him to her bed for the Tradition of the Bride's Right?

A
ye, she'd like him in her bed.

And
would she like him to undress now?

Oh aye
... Definitely.

And once his garments were laid aside, and his full body on show, h
e had to cuddle her in for some considerable time.  He was thankful that his cock was at least still totally inert at her first sight of it.

It was the chieftain who laid her down
and continued the kissing while he undid some buttons, and then had to sit her up and cuddle her in again.

It was the chieftain who managed to get her chemise off while she sat on his lap, for laying down seemed to make her too jumpy.  Sitting on the edge of the bed worked the best
for now, and she finally responded like a woman when he came around to touching her breasts.

All that lay between the couple and the four witnesses was a
few feet of atmosphere charged with duty and kindness, entitlement and enjoyment.  To this was soon added a combined wave of lust with an element of pleasant surprise.

Ranald had
been on enough wenching expeditions with his steward to know that Dougall was a tits-man and famed for his discerning expertise in that area, so he spent extra time at the suckling.  The newlyweds seemed to have been that far afore the ceremony, for Ginny knew just what she liked and directed his mouth accordingly.

Her breasts were stupendous,
for nothing less would have suited Dougall in a wife, and it was no chore at all for the chieftain to pleasure both the bride and himself. 

He
heard his name whispered much as
'Oh Ranald…'
and knew it meant a lot to her to be allowed to use it this night.